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Lura's Uncle Roy is in Japan. He used to take Christmas
dinner at Lura's home. Now he could only write her
papa to say a box of gifts had been sent, and one was
for his little girl.

The little girl clapped her
hands, crying, "Oh,
mamma! don't you think it is the chain and locket dear
uncle said he would sometime give me?"

"No," replied her papa, reading on. "Your
uncle says it is a turkey for one."

"But we do not need turkeys from Japan," remarked
the little daughter, soberly.

Her papa smiled, and handed
the open letter to her mamma. "Read it aloud, every bit," begged
Lura, seeing her mamma was smiling, too.

But her mamma folded the letter and said nothing.

On Christmas eve the box, which had just arrived, was
opened, and every one in the house was made glad with
a present. Lura's was a papier-mache turkey, nearly as
large as the one brought home at the same time by the
market-boy.

Next morning, while the fowl in the kitchen was being
roasted, Lura placed hers before a window and watched
people admire it as they passed. All its imitation
feathers, and even more its red wattles, seemed to
wish every man and woman, boy and girl, a Merry Christmas.

Lura had not spoken of the jewelry since her uncle's
letter was read. It is not nice for one who receives
a gift to wish it was different. Lura was not that
kind of a child.

When dinner was nearly over,
her papa said to her, "My
dear, you have had as much of my turkey as
you wanted; if you please, I will now try some of yours."

"Mine is what Uncle Roy calls a turkey for one," laughed
Lura. She turned in her chair towards where her bird
had been strutting on the window-sill, and added, in
surprise, "Why, what has become of him?"

At that moment the servant brought in a huge platter.
When room had been made for it on the table it was
set down in front of Lura's papa, and on the dish was
her turkey.

"Oh, what fun!" gayly exclaimed the child. "Did
uncle tell you to pretend to serve it?"

"I have not finished what he directs me to do," her
papa said, with a flourish of the carving-knife.

"But, papa—oh, please!" Her hand was
on his arm. "You would not spoil my beautiful
bird from Japan!

A hidden spring was touched with the point of the
knife. The breast opened, and disclosed the
fowl filled with choice toys and other things. The
first taken out was a tiny box; inside was a gold chain
and locket; the locket held Uncle Roy's picture.

It was a turkey for one, for
only Uncle Roy's niece. But all the family shared
the amusement.